Sailor (1) | JJ Maybank UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Preview

"This is so much better than pretending all my hookups were you."

Bailee was never one for purses or bags of any kind, really. She preferred to hold things in her hands, carefully balancing them between her fingers as she rolled the objects around her nails. That way, she never has to double or triple-check her bag for her favorite lighter - instead, flicking it on and off when she gets anxious. It's part of the reason Bailee despises the flight and ferry ride home from boarding school; there are too many bags with too many items that could be left behind if she needs to check more.

Too many memories that could be easily lost.

Nevertheless, the teenage girl sat in an overcrowded ferry with a duffle bag containing her old clothes, a few Polaroids, and some extra joints for safekeeping. Her weight shifts as the ocean rocks side to side, allowing her to close her eyes for a moment and finally breathe. The stuffy boarding school uniform and heels never helped her readjust to Outer Banks on her way back. Still, the police officer escorting her with his eyes firmly on her bracelets and handcuffed wrists didn't precisely allow Bailee to change when she got off the plane.

Bailee brought both hands up to fiddle with a small silver compass necklace that hung loosely, reassuring herself it was still safely secured. It had been there ever since her mom had left. Even though it was now a bit rusty, it still swayed softly on her skin and left its circle tan line every summer.

She sighed deeply when the famous "Paradise on Earth" sign came into view, cracking her neck and getting ready to unload soon. There was no eye contact between anyone else on the boat and the 17-year-old girl, as the cold steel handcuffs that came with the police escort her made most of their business. But Bailee didn't mind; she had gotten into enough trouble that she was used to side-eye stares and upturned noses.

The officer's quick pace off the boat almost tripped her Christian Louboutin black heels, which she wanted to be free of. Only a few more hours, and she was home free—or her ankles were, at least. In a few hours, she'd be back with her aunt, who would probably only be slightly disappointed that she was coming home with an escort if Aunt Marissa was home to welcome her at all.

But her mind quieted with the thoughts of a specific blond surfer she knew would be waiting at the docks.

Bailee Walker's summer would be interesting this year, as soon as she gets out of these handcuffs.





_____edited.